"Did you and Karliah have a falling-out, lass?" Brynjolf asked, though the answer was rather obvious – Laela sat at the bar in the Flagon, downing a tankard of mead. Her fifth, Vekel signed, and Brynjolf knew. Rubbing her back gently, he sat at the bar next to her. "Do you want to talk about it?" He murmured, as Vekel set a tankard in front of him.
Laela shook her head. Very well. She would talk when she was ready. During her time with the Thieves' Guild, they had become very close, and their friendship was very strong. Downing her mead, Laela grumbles that she never wants to talk about it again. She rests her head on Brynjolf's shoulder, and he takes a sip of his mead. "It's okay, lass." "No," she groans, rubbing her temples and pouring herself some more mead. "I messed up and lost one of my best friends, probably forever." "Don't be so hard on yourself, Lae," Brynjolf murmurs, attempting to comfort her. "You don't understand, Bryn. She's gone. She went to stay in Nightcaller Temple. She's not going to come back."
Brynjolf sighed. "I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?" Laela lifted her head from her folded arms for a split second, and her eyes seemed to light up. "I'm not sure," she grumbled, uncorking another bottle of Black-Briar Reserve and downing half of it. "You should probably slow down," Brynjolf nudges her, and she protests. "No way. I don't wanna remember any of this." "You know you're going to remember it anyway." Laela sighed, defeated. "Did anyone ever tell you you're a pain in the ass, Brynjolf?" He chuckled. "All the time."
It wasn't that Karliah didn't like Laela. Hardly. They'd been best friends literally all their lives, and strong ones, too. It wasn't any of the typical things that pushed relationships away or wedged friends apart, like mutual differences or fights could. It was just fear. Taking that kind of step could bode ill for their friendship, and that was the last thing Karliah wanted.
She felt rather awful about the way the situation had unfolded, especially because she felt she was running away from the issue, from her best friend. Maybe this had a good side. Laela was an agent of Nocturnal now; perhaps she'd come back to the temple to commune with Nocturnal. Then Karliah could sort this mess out. And if Laela didn't return, Karliah could always send a letter. Letters worked, right? Mabe Brynjolf could break the news?
The more she thought about it, the more she realized that Laela was just a friend. Not just a friend, but a sister, and that was all. Laela was a good friend, and she needed it to stay that way.
"Laela," Brynjolf bit his lip, flushed. "I don't think this is a good idea." "Well, I do," Laela growled, canines grating roughly over the hollow of his neck. "You've had a lot of mead, lass." She bit his neck, and he elicited a moan in response. "Mead just makes it easier to do things I already wanted to do. Like you." Laela chuckles into the warm flesh of Brynjolf's neck, tangling one of her nimble hands into his rusty red hair.
"Come on, let's go," Laela purred. "Go where?" "Honeyside. There's no way I'm gonna fuck you in the cistern where Vipir can see."
Iona must have been out running errands, because she wasn't home. That didn't bother Laela, though. In fact, it did just the opposite. She kissed him with a fierce passion that the redheaded thief didn't know she was capable of, and that turned him on. He pulled her tight against his him, making her moan softly. He kissed her roughly, pushing her onto the straw and furs bed.
He managed to get Laela's armor off, buckles undone and the cowl pulled off, revealing her long, curly tresses – rather unnatural for a Dunmer, but he loved it. It complimented her dark eyes, and looking at her face only spurred him on. She looked great in her Nightengale armor, and even better lying beneath him, dark blue flesh soft and faintly marked by midnight blue scars along her body.
Laela smiled softly, pulling Brynjolf close and undoing the leather straps of his Guild armor. She pressed searing kisses to his neck, lifting the armor over his head, along with the hood. Brynjolf slowly moved her hands to his crotch, where he bulged against the soft leather. When they were both in their underthings, Brynjolf cradler her head in his hands, kissing every inch of her, nibbling her collarbones, licking her sensitive, elongated ears. When his tongue grazed the cartilage of her ear, she let out the sweetest moan he'd ever heard, and he pulled her even closer, one of his hands massaging her breasts.
"Bryn," Laela groaned beneath him, eyes blazing. He acknowledged her plea by removing the last of their garments, nibbling her thighs and kissing softly at the pale bluish-pink flesh between them. She groaned as his tongue met her lips, cold against the heat between her legs. He continued licking and sucking softy, her juices clinging to his facial hair.
When he decided she'd had enough, he positioned himself over her, sliding inside as she sighed in pleasure. With each thrust, they moaned, together, louder, breathing raggedly and exchanging kisses and rough welts from nails digging into flesh. Brynjolf's pace quickened, thrusts harsh and short, until they climaxed, Laela's nails embedded in his shoulders and their lips joined, riding out the climax for all it was worth.
"Run a job with me, Bryn. Like old times…?" The redhead met Laela's longing, nostalgic gaze and shrugged. "What kind of job?" She smirked, nose crinkling as a laugh followed. "Whatever Delvin gives us. He's been talking about some job in Solitude that sounds pretty important." Brynjolf could see why she was smiling, and he found himself grinning as well. Solitude was always ripe for picking. "You had me at 'Solitude', lass."
Delvin had given them the job that would be the most fun in a city like Solitude, plus a few extras in case they needed more of a thrill. Usually only five hundred septims' worth of goods was enough loot, but for the pair, Delvin made it a thousand – he encouraged a difficult job. Hard work was good work and good work was the most fun.
The pair got a room to share in The Winking Skeever, settling down at the bar for a quick bite. "I guess we'll rest up today and start the job tonight. Don't want to fall asleep climbing through a window or hiding in a bush," Laela chuckles, taking a bite of her bread. "Not that you would fall asleep climbing through a window anyway, lass. There aren't any here to climb through."
The two were disguised as an adventuring couple, just passing through. The ruse wasn't really necessary, but it was better to be safe than sorry and in jail. Brynjolf enjoyed it, not that he would ever admit it – nobody needed to know that the fiery Dunmer was his favourite partner for any reason other than her thieving talent.
They retired for the night to their small, shared room, where Laela began to remove her armor, and replace it with nightclothes. Brynjolf tried to busy himself so he wouldn't make her uncomfortable, since leaving the room was out of the question. When she was finished, she curled up in the bed with a book, leaving him to remove his Guild armor and crawl into the space next to her. He pulled her close and reveled in the dark blue flush of her cheeks, pushing his nose into her hair and smiling.
"Bryn… are you enjoying yourself?" Laela purred, while he chuckled into her neck. "Aye, lass, I am." "Good." She set Advances in Lockpicking aside and turned to face him. "How about another reason for you to enjoy yourself?"